


Two Men and a Goat

by Cinaed



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animals, Background Het, Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4326144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard enlists Gareth's help in presenting Madalena with Jenny the Second. It doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Men and a Goat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aestivali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestivali/gifts).



> For aestivali, who asked for Gareth/Richard. I hope you enjoy! This takes place after "Joust Friends" and goes AU from there, though it references the season finale as well.

Gareth regretted letting the king into his chambers, since Richard had taken that to mean he was welcome at all hours. He was in the middle of shaving when Richard burst through the door and said brightly, “Oh, Gareth, I’ve had the most marvelous idea! _Do_ say you’ll help.”

He lowered his razor, a little disappointed that it was the king and not an assassin. Valencia didn’t have enough people left to mount a decent attempt on his life, but Gareth had made plenty of enemies in the king’s service and assassins kept things exciting. He realised that Richard was expecting a response. 

“Is that so, my liege,” he said. “What do you need? Some skulls need cracking?” Then he saw the look in Richard’s eyes and tried not to grimace. That glint usually meant Gareth wasn’t going to have a nice day of hurting people, but instead spend the next few hours stuck in a silly scheme to help the king win over Madalena.

Sure enough, Richard rubbed his hands together and said, “Now look, Gareth, I know that the dinner with Madalena didn’t exactly go as planned….”

“Really, sire?” Gareth said dryly. “I’m shocked. Though I’d been wondering how you crying in my arms for eight hours would help win her heart.”

“Well, I can see how that would be confusing,” Richard said, briefly distracted. He frowned for a moment, and then lit up with one of his wide smiles that crinkled the corners of his eyes and always made Gareth feel like punching someone. “Though it did give us a chance to work on your hugging skills!”

“Sure,” Gareth said. He didn’t think about how long those eight hours had been, the king heavy in his arms, his breath hot against Gareth’s neck. His collar felt too tight. He tugged at it, clearing his throat. “How're your ribs?”

Richard waved a dismissive hand, the rings on his fingers catching the morning sunlight. “Oh, better, better. The court physician says you only bruised them. They hardly hurt at all when I breathe.” He demonstrated with a deep breath and immediately winced. “Though, ah, they do still hurt.”

Gareth wasn’t going to think about that either, how instead of shoving Richard away he’d actually gone soft and hugged him. He frowned. “So what’s your plan?”

“Plan?” Richard blinked. A puzzled crease appeared briefly between his eyes. Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh right, the plan! Well, during that little  _moment_  Madalena and I had last night, she mentioned a childhood pet, a goat named Jenny. We’re going to get her Jenny.”

It was Gareth’s turn to blink as he thought over the king’s words. Cautiously he began, “Not that I’m objecting, exactly, but I’m not sure how old this Jenny would be by now. I don’t expect goats live very long--”

“Oh no, not  _her_  Jenny,” Richard said, laughing. “My dear Maddie had to eat her years ago. No, I’m talking of Jenny the Second. A new Jenny. One who will soften Madalena’s heart and finally convince her to break her vow of chastity!”

“Right,” Gareth said, and resigned himself to another day of nonsense. He cleaned his razor and set it aside. “Where should we start looking? I think we’ve eaten every goat in Valencia.”

“Oh, I’m certain we’ll find one.” This was said in a dismissive tone which meant the task was going to be next to impossible. Richard started to turn towards the door and then stopped, pursing his lips. “Gareth, are you certain you’ve finished shaving? You missed a spot.” He touched Gareth’s jaw for a second, maybe two, his fingertips smooth and without calluses despite all the hours Gareth had wasted trying to train him to fight.

Gareth’s heart pounded too loud in his ears, the way it did sometimes when he was about to start breaking bones.

His expression made Richard blanch and take a few hasty steps back. Richard laughed nervously. “Well, perhaps you haven’t. Is this the new court fashion, Gareth? It looks very becoming, I must say. Very, ah, manly.” He backed towards the door. “I think I shall go order Chef to pack us a nice midday meal.”

“Yes, sire,” Gareth said, finding his voice, but Richard was already gone.

* * *

 

Madalena said darkly, “ _Galavant_  would have known better than to get me a goat! Honestly! The things I have to put up with around here,” and stormed off with a fierce rustling of her dress. She’d apparently been too busy with her tirade about her husband's stupidity to notice that the goat had torn a few mouthfuls off the end of her dress.

Richard stared after her, his pleased expression beginning the slow slide towards disappointment.

“Well, that could’ve gone better,” Gareth said. He glared sourly at the goat. It flicked an ear at him and swallowed the last of Madalena’s dress. Then it resumed chewing on the remains of the crown of flowers Richard had made, the king insisting that the beast would look adorable. A thought occurred to him. He brightened. “Does that mean we can eat it?”

“What? No, Gareth!” said Richard, looking shocked. “We gave her a  _name_.” He tried to pet Jenny the Second and snatched his hand back hastily before she could bite him. “Look at how upset Jenny is! Madalena broke her heart.” His voice wobbled and went hoarse.

Gareth stared at Richard’s drooping look. He didn’t think Richard was actually talking about the goat. The question slipped out unthinking. “Do you need a hug, sire?”

Richard blinked. A delighted smile spread across his face. “Oh, Gareth!” he said, and threw himself forward even as Gareth held up his hands and said, “I meant Chef, my king, not--”

He gave up as Richard clung to him, even though they were in the courtyard where anyone could see. Remembering the last time, he gingerly put his arms around Richard, patting him on the back as Richard sighed. Gareth felt smothered, both by the hot sun and by Richard’s weight. He twitched as Richard’s lips brushed his throat, and again his heart pounded too loudly in his ears.

“I don’t understand how my plan went wrong," Richard complained against his shoulder. "Maddie loved that goat!”

“Maybe she loved that particular goat,” Gareth said, or tried to say. It was interrupted by Richard’s startled yell.

“She bit me!” Richard let go of Gareth to clutch at his ankle, which the goat was eyeing in malicious satisfaction. The goat’s look was a lot like Madalena when she’d said something particularly nasty, actually, now that Gareth looked closely at her. “Gareth, she actually bit me!”

The goat made another lunge for Richard’s ankle. Gareth knew, just like he knew when to stretch out his hand and take Richard’s in a song and dance, that Richard would jump into his arms to escape her. He caught the king, bracing himself against the new weight. As soon as he had his balance, he walked backwards, keeping a wary eye on the goat.

“I can’t believe she bit me!” Richard said. He stared at the animal in outrage. “I think she drew blood! Gareth, tell Chef we’re having goat tonight.”

“She’s got a name, my liege,” Gareth said, raising his foot so that the goat’s teeth closed upon his boot instead of his ankle. He shook her off and then retreated across the courtyard towards the castle. “Thought that meant we couldn’t eat her?”

He wasn’t surprised when Richard hissed, “Her name is hereby revoked by royal decree.”

“Right,” said Gareth. He didn't grin, though he wanted to. He always enjoyed Richard's bloodthirstiness. The now nameless goat was following them, a determined glint in her dark eyes. Gareth fought down grudging respect as she lunged for him again. He was beginning to see why her previous owner hadn't dared to eat her and why he had been so happy to sell her to the king. He kept retreating, weighed down by Richard in his arms. "Where to?" 

"My bedchambers," Richard said, sighing. "I need to change my hose and see if that dratted beast really did draw blood." 

The goat stalked them through the castle, making the occasional lunge at Gareth. It let out a frustrated bleat as Gareth kicked the door shut behind him. A second later a series of dull thuds met Gareth's ears, as though the goat was kicking the door in protest. He laughed. "Maybe we should keep her around, set her loose on Galavant when he finally shows up."  

"That  _would_  be amusing to see-- no, no, Gareth, she bit me. Injury to the king cannot go unpunished."

Gareth decided not to point out that he'd bruised Richard's ribs the night before and hadn't been punished. Unless the eight hours of enduring Richard's teary embrace had been the punishment. "I'll let Chef know, sire," he said, and started to lower Richard onto the sheets just as Richard tried to twist out of his arms. The sudden movement unbalanced Gareth, and together they tipped onto the bed.

Sprawled on top of Richard, Gareth noticed two things. First, that Richard's left calf was skinnier than his right. How the hell had he managed that? Second, that even though Richard wasn't muscular, he was still well-fed. Gareth hadn't lied before, he preferred unhealthily skinny women, the kind who felt like they'd snap if you handled them too hard, but there was something appealing about how solid Richard felt beneath him.

And that was a dangerous thought. "Sorry," he said, and started to roll away. That was when he noticed the third thing. He was fairly certain that Richard didn't have a dagger, because he was always complaining that weapons ruined his silhouette, and besides, he had Gareth to protect him. But there was definitely something nudging at Gareth's thigh.

Gareth paused, blinking as Richard said waspishly, in that tone he got whenever he was embarrassed and furious over his embarrassment, "If you don't mind, Gareth!"

He should get up and fetch Richard some new hose, give them both time to pretend that Richard wasn't hard and that Gareth hadn't noticed. That would've been the smart thing to do. No, Gareth thought, staring as colour rose in Richard's face, the smart thing would've been to leave as soon as he'd figured out what a rotten king Richard would be, all those years ago. He licked his lips, distracted by the hot and hungry feeling in his gut, and didn't move. "Sire."

"Gareth," Richard said, and tried to laugh. It wasn't very convincing. "Well, this is rather awkward, you know. But I, ah, that is, Madalena--"

Gareth didn't want to hear about Madalena. He pressed down more heavily against Richard, earning a startled squeak. The press of Richard's cock against his thigh sent a wave of heat through him. He swallowed. "I get it," he said. "The queen's not my type, not skinny enough, but she's yours. Looking at her and not getting to touch...." He moved his hips, just a little, listening for the hitch in Richard's breathing. "Probably makes it hard."

Richard laughed again, a high, startled noise. "T-that's a terrible joke," he said, breathless, and then lower, sounding less like a king and more like the lost prince Gareth remembered, who hadn't known the first thing about ruling a kingdom, "Gareth, I don't.... I always thought--" His voice died, and Gareth kept still, watching a dozen emotions flit across Richard's face. In a rush, Richard said, "This will sound ridiculous, I know, but I want my first time to be special. With someone I love."

It was like a kick in the teeth. "Right," Gareth said, and stood. His mouth tasted sour. "And that's the queen." He thought of Madalena then, with her vicious smiles and poisonous words and all the selfish strength that befitted a queen. He thought of her and he hated her a little, because Richard was in love with her and she was off having sex with that stupid jester. If she hadn't lied about that vow of chastity, Gareth wouldn't be in this stupid mess. 

"Gareth," Richard said, in a different tone than before. When Gareth didn't look at him, he said his name again. "Look, Gar-bear, you're my best friend."

"Don't call me that."

"I can't call you my best friend?" Richard sounded hurt. 

Gareth finally looked at him, and wished he hadn't. Richard's clothes were a little rumpled, the flush still in his anxious face. "No," he said slowly. "Gar-bear. No one gives me a stupid nickname, not even you." Relief flooded Richard's features, and Gareth sighed, scratching at his jaw. His fingers stopped at the spot that Richard had touched earlier, which still had that damn patch of beard. He scowled and stalked towards the door. "Look, forget it. I'll go tell Chef about the goat--" 

He yanked the door open, and the goat in question head-butted him in the stomach.

It didn't come close to knocking the wind from him, but he did take a surprised step back, right into Richard, who clutched his shoulders and hissed, "Do you know, I think that goat has it out for us! I've a mind to go back to her previous owner and complain." His grip tightened, and Gareth couldn't tell if it was to keep him from leaving or to use him as a shield against the goat, which looked ready for another charge. 

Pulling himself free from Richard's grasp, Gareth swung his foot at the animal. The blow didn't land, but the goat leaped backwards enough that he could slam the door shut in the beast's furious face. Gareth leaned against the door, biting back a curse when he realised that he'd locked himself in with Richard, who was probably going to want to talk about their feelings. 

Sure enough, Richard cleared his throat. "Gareth...." 

"Yes, sire," Gareth said flatly. He tensed as Richard touched him again, his hand on Gareth's shoulder. Reluctantly, he turned. 

Richard kissed him. It was an awful kiss, awkward and over-eager and wet, with too much pressure and too many teeth. If he'd tried to kiss Madalena like that, it was no wonder she'd coughed out that stupid line about a vow of chastity. 

Gareth should've pushed him away. Instead he groaned into the kiss and grabbed a fistful of Richard's tunic to drag him closer, his other hand clutching at Richard's strange left leg until Richard was half straddling him. Richard's arms went around his chest, clutching him so hard he wondered if it was his turn for a few bruised ribs. 

When Richard broke the kiss, his eyes were wide as though he’d surprised himself. He stared at Gareth. "Gareth," he said. “You like me, don’t you?”

Gareth grimaced. Some of the heat went from his belly, replaced by unease. He should’ve known better than to think Richard wouldn’t get stupid about this. “Sire?” he said, stalling.

“Maddie said,” Richard began, and then stopped. He licked his lips. “Maddie said that Pearl only loved me because she was paid, but….” Richard stared at him, like he was trying to read Gareth’s mind. “But you _like_ me. Not because I’m paying you, but…you consider me a-- that is to say, we’re--”

Gareth kissed him before he could finish the sentence. It was meant to shut him up, but Richard breathed out, “Friends,” against his lips anyway and Gareth growled.

“You always make things so bloody complicated,” he said, frustration loosening his tongue. “Wouldn’t let me kill Galavant at your wedding like I wanted, wouldn’t just give the queen the fucking jewel. And now when we could have a bit of fun you keep harping on about _friendship_. This is why the queen took that stupid vow, so you wouldn’t talk about your feelings at her in bed!”

Richard’s face went blank, and Gareth wondered if he’d gone too far. Then he said slowly, “I have to respect her wishes. I’m a modern thirteenth century man, after all.”

Frustration gave way to impatience. “Well, my king, I’m not,” Gareth said, and lifted Richard bodily from the floor. Richard’s arms tightened around Gareth, his legs wrapping around Gareth’s waist as he made a surprised sound.

It was nothing like a hug, but the memory of Richard embracing him for all those hours rose to his mind, unbidden. For a second Gareth’s knees went strangely weak. Then they steadied. Looking up into Richard’s startled face, he said, “I take what I want, and there’s no nonsense about feelings.”

Again Richard only stared at him, his brow furrowed. Then, strangely, a smile began at the corner of his mouth and spread across his entire face, until Gareth started to wonder if he’d said something he shouldn’t.

The smile unnerved him. He kissed Richard again, hard, trying to banish the smile, but it lingered on Richard’s lips as Gareth carried him to the bed and set him down against the pillows.

“You want me,” Richard said in delight, beaming down the bed at him as Gareth worked one of his shoes off, and Gareth groaned.

He half-crushed the shoe in his hands before he dropped it to the ground. “Sire,” he said in protest, but Richard laughed, saying, “You _like_ me, Gar-bear. You really do. You--”

The sentence cut off as Gareth palmed him roughly through his hose. “Oh,” Richard said breathlessly, eyes going wide. His head fell back against the pillow. “ _Oh_.”

“Good, my liege?” Gareth said. From the way Richard moaned and arched into his hand, it was. Gareth grinned, satisfied when Richard didn’t say anything else. He bent to his task, undressing Richard with quick efficiency. He lingered a little at Richard’s ankle, where the goat’s bite had left a series of small bruises but no broken skin.

Richard’s other foot nudged at Gareth’s shoulder. When Gareth looked up, Richard watched him with hungry impatience. “At once, my king,” Gareth said to the unvoiced command, and hastily stripped.

Then he let himself look. Naked, Richard was as solid as he’d felt before, with a hint of softness to his belly that came from too much good food. His cock, Gareth saw, was a little crooked. It should’ve been amusing. Gareth stroked him, learning the queer shape as Richard shuddered and clutched at the sheets. He didn’t kiss the people he fucked for all that he’d kissed Richard earlier. It always felt too much like giving something away. Now he knelt on the bed and watched Richard’s face contort.

“Gareth,” Richard said, high and urgent. “That’s, oh, I see why everyone, _oh_ \--” Whatever he had discovered was lost in a low groan as he came all over Gareth’s hand. He slumped gracelessly against the pillows, his eyes closed and his face slack.

Hopefully he’d fall asleep and then Gareth could get himself under control and leave. In the meantime, Gareth wiped away everything with some of the sheets. Not that he’d mind, but once Richard recovered, he’d start fussing about the mess. He’d just finished when Richard reached out, his fingers brushing the inside of Gareth’s thigh.

“Sire,” Gareth began, abruptly aware that Richard didn’t look sleepy at all. He forgot what he was going to say as Richard took hold of him. Richard’s hand was warm and slick with sweat, and Gareth should’ve shoved him away.

Richard kissed him, just as clumsily as before, and Gareth growled again, half-turning his face away so that the next kiss landed awkwardly on his cheek. “Not like that,” he said, and then swore a little as a small crease appeared in Richard’s forehead and his hand faltered on Gareth’s cock.

Gareth took Richard by the chin and held him still. He hadn’t been able to teach Richard how to sword-fight, hadn’t been able to teach him much of anything, really, but this might be easier. “Like this,” he said, and gave Richard a slow, proper kiss, one that might’ve melted even Madalena. “See?”

“Yes,” Richard said, sounding dazed. His face was still flushed and a little soft around the edges from earlier. His hand had stilled on Gareth’s cock. Now it began to stroke him again, slowly at first, and then faster as Gareth grunted encouragement.

He only stopped as Gareth came, letting out a startled and vaguely scandalised sound that Gareth barely heard over the roar in his ears. When Gareth opened his eyes, Richard was frowning at his hand in distaste and trying in vain to shake it clean.

“Let me,” Gareth said, and wiped Richard’s hand with another part of the sheets. After he’d finished, he looked up to find Richard was smiling at him, that same pleased grin from before. He braced himself for sappy nonsense.

“That was--” Richard said. He stopped and laughed, turning red. His hand, the one that hadn’t touched Gareth’s cock, ran through his hair a few times. “Well! That was very nice.”

“Nice,” Gareth echoed flatly, uncertain whether he should be offended or not. _Nice_ was not usually how people described it afterwards. Then he shrugged. At least Richard wasn’t getting sentimental at him or throwing the f-word around any longer. “Yes, sire.” He rose from the bed, beginning to gather up his clothes.

“You’re leaving?”

His tunic in his hand, Gareth looked up at the question. Richard was frowning now, his hands in his lap. He seemed more startled than alarmed, but unease touched Gareth, remembering how Richard had spouted all that silly stuff about first times being special. He shrugged again. “Someone’s got to tell Chef that we’re having goat tonight, sire. Though I still say it’d be fun to keep her and let her loose on Galavant when he finally shows.”

“Oh, right,” Richard said. He was quiet for another moment, but Gareth could feel his gaze on him as he dressed. Gareth had just resettled his scabbard against his side when Richard spoke again. “Gareth.”

“Yes, my king,” Gareth said, keeping his unease off his face. The feeling that he’d made a mistake curdled his stomach. To put off what he suspected was coming, he asked, “Change your mind about the goat?”

“No,” Richard said, and frowned down at his ankle where the bruises were showing more clearly. “Look at my poor ankle, Gareth! Such disrespect cannot be tolerated.” Then his expression changed. “No, that’s not what I-- well. I just wanted to say--”

Richard looked the same way he had when he’d started moaning about Pearl earlier, his eyes bright with emotion. He was going to bring up their friendship and how much they liked each other, Gareth was sure of it. The thought made him cold and nervous in a way he’d never been before, not even when he’d faced off against Galavant in the chapel and there’d been the vague possibility of him losing.

Striding to the door, Gareth said without looking back, “All good practice for when the queen’s over her vow of chastity, wasn’t it? Though she’ll be a little different beneath her dress.” He opened the door and slipped out before the king could call him back or yell at him for disrespecting the queen. He was breathing too fast, like he’d run like a coward instead of walked out to tell Chef about dinner.

Closing the door behind him, he side-stepped the goat’s lunge. Something in him steadied at the sight of an enemy, however small. He grinned at her. “Determined little monster,” he said admiringly and side-stepped again as she snapped at his knee.

Then he paced down the hallway, putting distance between himself and the king’s chambers. He braced himself for Richard to open the door and yell after him to come back, but Richard didn’t. The only sounds were his own unsteady breathing, the thuds of his boots, and the clatter of the goat’s hooves.

He rounded a corner, still tensed for the king's shout, and felt his stomach turn over when there was nothing. From relief, he decided at last. What else would it be? He'd go give the orders to Chef, while Richard decided that it had been good practice to please Madalena in the future. He looked down at the goat, and grinned, though it came stiffly to his face. “I still think you’d show Galavant a thing or two, but I guess we can’t always get what we want.”

The goat chewed on the edge of his scabbard and glared.  


End file.
